


Dragon Heart

by BravoMyHero



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Animal Transformation, Cas is a Dragon, Dean is an actual hunter, Dragon AU, Dragon!Cas, Dragons, Eragon AU, Fluff, Hunters, Loosely based on Eragon, M/M, Rating will change, Soul Bond, add more tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BravoMyHero/pseuds/BravoMyHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looked over when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dean. The young man had a solemn look in his eye and his mouth was set. If there was any other way, any thing else I could do, I would do it, John thought, but instead of voicing that, he faced his son, clapped him on the shoulder, and nodded. </p>
<p>He was sending Dean, his eldest, on a hunting trip into the mountains. John looked over him once more. His son carried a bag of supplies for the month he was planning on being gone and a bow slung across his broad shoulders. He was wearing thick pair of hose and his tunic was covered in furs, and he wore a thick cloak. He looked like man, not the boy that John often thought of. He pulled him into one last rough hug.</p>
<p>“Be safe son”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since I haven't been updating my ice skater fic, I thought I'd give you this. I'm sorry, I've been super busy. 
> 
> Expect some time between updates. I write when I can, but I don't have a ton of time. Just know that I enjoy writing, I love the characters, and I won't abandon something completely, just for a little while.
> 
> This will be a destiel story, but I love it when Sam is happy too. I haven't decided whether it will be a Sam/Jess pairing or a Sabriel pairing, so if either of those put you off, I'm sorry and I'll try to warn you when I decided so you can decide early on if you want to continue reading.
> 
> Also if you need me to tag something that I'm missing, please let me know.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr [here.](bravomyhere.tumblr.com) I don't post much, but you might get more info about when a fic might be updated.
> 
> Enjoy!

The coming winter was going to be harsh. John had seen the signs. All of the geese had left early, and the snowy owl had already arrived. He stood on his doorstep overlooking his now barren land as the sun rose and sighed. It hadn’t been a good year for crops, he had yielded a small harvest, and without enough food in his stores or money to buy some, there would be no way for him and his sons to survive the cold. 

He looked over when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dean. The young man had a solemn look in his eye and his mouth was set. If there was any other way, any thing else I could do, I would do it, John thought, but instead of voicing that, he faced his son, clapped him on the shoulder, and nodded. 

He was sending Dean, his eldest, on a hunting trip into the mountains. John looked over him once more. His son carried a bag of supplies for the month he was planning on being gone and a bow slung across his broad shoulders. He was wearing thick pair of hose and his tunic was covered in furs, and he wore a thick cloak. He looked like man, not the boy that John often thought of. He pulled him into one last rough hug.

“Be safe son”

~

Dean wished he had a horse. On his usual hunting trips he was only ever gone for a week at the most, no more than one day away from home. But he hadn’t seen a decent sized deer near their house in more than a fortnight, so he was forced to travel further into the mountains. 

It was late in the afternoon on the fourth day since his departure. If I had a horse, he thought bitterly, I could’ve been three times as far by now. He knew that it didn’t do any good to think that way, and that the journey home with his kills would only be slower and more difficult, but he couldn’t help it. 

He knew that they had a small farm, and that his family couldn’t afford a horse. But he also knew of other farms of the same size that had more than one horse, and that if his dad spent less of their money on his drink, they could’ve at least had an old nag to help with the fieldwork, if not something sturdy enough for him to take on his hunting trips.

He pulled his furs around him tighter. He was deep into the mountains now, and it was much colder up here than down in the valley where his home was. He made the decision that today would be his last day travelling for a while, and the next few days would be spent hunting in the area. He would have to stop to set up earlier than usual to build a more permanent camp than his usual fire and sleeping bag for a one-night stay.

The terrain was mostly dense forest. The pine trees, green and ominous, reached toward the sky. He was hoping to find a clearing big enough for a tent, but the closeness of the trees had not yet relented. He really didn’t like to just have a sleeping bag when he was staying in one place for more than a day, but he was just starting to think that maybe he would have to. He kept walking.

He made good progress walking through the forest. He progressed quickly and quietly, his stealth being one of the things he was most proud of. They called hunters like him Ghosts: Humans who could stalk their prey through the forest without making a sound and without leaving a trace. Because of his silence, he could hear all the sounds of the forest. Every birdcall, breeze and animal noise seemed amplified in the intense silence. That was why when the babbling of a stream nearby came into range; to him it seemed like a roar.

He smiled inwardly at the sound. Streams were good. Streams meant water, and life needs water, so it would be a good place to find his game. However, if he was going to want to hunt near the stream, he couldn’t camp near the stream. He started to walk with the babble behind him, away from the brook. Finally, he came across a space where there would be just enough room for his tent and a fire, and there was also a branch at the just the right height for him to string up his food.

The sun was setting now and he cursed to himself. He would have to set up his camp much more quickly than he had hoped. He didn’t want to be bumbling around in the dark and attract any other predators. Fortunately for him, the dusk lasted long enough for him to have a nice fire going with which to set up his tent. It wasn’t much, just a big enough for him to put his sleeping bag under, a canvas draped over a frame of some large sticks he found and the edges pounded into the ground with pegs. It wasn’t quite long enough and his head stuck out one end, but he found that he actually liked that. He could lie there and look towards the sky at night. The branches of the trees dark and swaying, and every once and a while he could get glimpses of stars or the moon between them.

He made and ate a bit of thick stew with some of a rabbit he had caught the day before, shot down as it crossed his path as he walked. Then he let his fire die down, and slept soundly through the night. 

~

He woke at sunrise the next morning and prepared for hunting. After more of the same stew for breakfast, he gathered his bow and quiver, took one last look at his camp, making sure it was secure, then headed back towards the stream. 

He took even more care to walk as stealthy as ever. It would do no good to scare off game this early in the day. Logically he knew that even if he did frighten a deer, if he waited long enough, another would come along. However, he swore that the deer would go and tell all his friends, and he wouldn’t see even so much as a rabbit for the rest of the day. 

When he reached the stream, he was pleased. He had seen many tracks of animals and paths they had created leading towards the water as he approached it. He looked down the stream a bit and saw there was a meadow, filled with tall grasses. He was sure that in the spring, this place would be covered in wildflowers, but now it just held the golden grass of fall. 

This is a place a whole herd would gather! He thought excitedly. If he could get enough game quick enough, he could go home sooner, and having a herd that gathered in a place like this meadow would definitely increase the rate he hunted. And, judging by the amount of tracks he came across, there was a lot of game. Just enough elk or deer that I could drag back, then all I would have to do is check the traps I laid on the way, and I won’t have to be out here for more than two weeks! 

He decided his best strategy would be to perch in a tree. That way, no matter which way a herd approached, he’d be out of sight. He spotted a good, tall tree near the edge with a lot thick, low branches. He figured it’d suit his purpose quite well and started to climb. He picked a branch that was still thick at the base, but a good ways up the tree and sat. 

And now the fun part, he thought. He waited. And waited. The day came in lazily, and his even though it was cold out, the sun on his face felt warm. He was relaxed, in his element; he knew that if game showed up today, he could be waiting in this tree for a long time. He felt his eyelids start to droop. By noon, Dean was snoozing soundly.

Until the explosion.

The forest was completely silent right before it happened. Then, all of a sudden, a deafening roar filled the forest. The ground shook and the trees swayed and then a huge burst of wind came through. Dean was awoken roughly as the branches shook and the tree leaned away from the blast, lost his balance, fell from the tree and was promptly knocked unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple more days, he thought, just a couple more, a buck or two, and I can go home.

His head really, really hurt. He sat up slowly and hazard to open his eyes and then quickly changed his mind and closed them again. It was very bright out. He put a hand up to his head and felt it gingerly. It wasn’t wet, so that was good, no blood. He flinched when his fingers brushed across a tender lump on his head. Still no blood though, but damn did it hurt. 

He sighed and kept his eyes closed. The ringing in his head was fading, but he didn’t want to deal with his eyes until it went away. He clenched them tightly before squinting one open cautiously, and then both of them in shock.

To say that the meadow had changed would be an understatement. The meadow was, essentially, gone. He sat on the edge of a crater at least three feet deep. Some of the trees surrounding the meadows, including the tree he had stationed himself in, were blown over and the edges of the trees still standing were burnt and still smoldering.

He rubbed his eyes, not believing that this was real and opened them again. Nope, the crater was still there. What the hell did this? He thought, but came up blank as to an explanation.

He carefully stood up and peered over the edge. There was still smoke in the air and looking into the hole was kind of hazy, but it still appeared empty. He was curious as to what happened, but now he was also pissed. 

“Son of a bitch,” he said. He had walked all this way and found the perfect clearing from which to hunt, only to have it destroyed in some freak meteor or something. He kicked the dirt and immediately regretted the sudden movement. Falling from the tree hurt a lot more than just his head. He winced for the second time that afternoon.

A breeze rolled through the valley and the smoked cleared. Dean was currently stretching out his arms and rolling his shoulders, but he looked into the crater one last time when he saw something.

It was just a twinkle. A slight sparkle as the sun poured its like clearing into the meadow, but it was definitely there. Now his curiously edged out his irritation and he really wanted to find out what that glimmer was. However, his aching muscles still protested. 

Screw it, he thought and he sat on the lip of the hole and slid in. When he reached the center, he saw the edge of the thing that sparkled. It looked like a large gem, a sapphire, buried in the dirt. Dean felt ecstatic. Even if he didn’t get as much game, selling a gem could definitely provide for his family for the winter, if not for the entire year or much longer.

He bent over and tried to pull the treasure out of the ground but it wouldn’t budge. He knelt down and began to brush away the dirt around it.

“Jesus,” he breathed and swept away the dirt more frantically. This thing was huge! He was finally able to pry it out of the dirt. It was as long as his forearm and twice as thick, rounded along all of its edges in a slight teardrop shape. It was a brilliant blue, lighter than the deep blue of a sapphire, but darker than the light blue of the sky. He hefted it. For it’s size, he expected it to be much heavier, but it couldn’t weigh much more than five pounds. 

What is this? He wondered. How did it end up here? And then there was the question of the explosion and the crater. What did that have to do with anything? He thought about it for just a moment longer, staring at the precious object in his hand, and decided, as long as he had it, it didn’t really matter where it came from. This stone would definitely cut his trip in half. 

Just a couple more days, he thought, just a couple more, a buck or two, and I can go home. He was more relieved at this than he wanted to admit. He had come through several mountain passes to get this deep into the mountains, and he was worried that if he stayed too long or if there was an early snow, he’d be trapped up there. 

He put the gem in his pack and climbed out of the crater. His walk back to camp was slower than the walk to the meadow had been with his stiffness and soreness. Every few steps pain would shoot up his leg or he would tweak his shoulders, and he had to stop often to catch his breath. The explosion had happened just after noon, he reasoned, and he was pretty sure he was only unconscious for an hour or two, but by the time he reached his camp again is was early evening. 

His fire was still smoldering, and the first thing he did was build it up again. After some more stew, he pulled out the gem to look at again. For being pulled out of the dirt, it was polished and shiny. It didn’t have one scratch on it. In fact, it didn’t have any blemishes on it at all. Dean turned it over in his hands. It was perfect in every sense of the word. He found himself just sitting and staring into its depths. It was the more beautiful color of blue he had ever seen, and it seemed he couldn’t stop staring.

He shook himself out of his revere. Most beautiful blue he had ever seen? He mentally slapped himself, he was started to sound just like Sam and his appreciating beauty crap. He quickly put the stone back into his pack, crawled into his sleeping bag and lay down on his back. As soon as his set his head down he let out a yelp and quickly picked it back up and rolled over onto his side, trying to avoid that tender spot where he had hit it.

When he woke the next morning, he had already decided that he needed to break camp. With the stone he could head back immediately and hunt as he went, but he wouldn’t need nearly as much as originally planned. With the money gained from selling the stone, he could buy whatever food they needed, instead of selling or trading the food he caught for provisions that would last longer than the meat.

Gods, he was really getting tired of stew, but it was filling and would last him most of the day, so he forced himself to eat some more. Before he knew it he had everything packed neatly and was on his way.

On the way home he allowed himself to enjoy the journey more. No longer was the threat of starvation or debtors hanging over his family’s head, and he could see their luck taking a turn for the better. He had been so worried about Sammy, and how he was going to support him over the coming months. There wasn’t a lot a farmer’s son could do in the winter for money. John was always worse in the winter too. His drinking only increased when there wasn’t work in the fields, not that he did too much of it since his boys were old enough to hold a tool. 

Dean had managed to deflect most of his bad moods from Sam, but he knew that his brother was aware of them. Dean couldn’t explain away every bruise to falling down or running into posts, and at fourteen, Sam was starting to get more and more suspicious. Dean’s jovial step slowed a bit, as he recalled their conversation not too much more than a week ago the night before he left.

“He can’t let you do this Dean,” Sam had said, “It isn’t right. You aren’t supposed to take care of this family! He is!”

“Well you know what Sammy,” he had retorted, “Life isn’t always right and I have to go. Do you think that he can pick up a bow? Walk through the mountains? Catch enough to feed us?”

“Of course not Dean, but that’s not the point-“

“He does the best he can,” Dean lied, “now I have to do the best I can.”

Sam had rolled his eyes went to their bedroom. By the time Dean had finished packing all his things and went to bed himself, Sam was facing the wall, either asleep or determined to ignore Dean for the rest of the night. The next morning Dean, rather than dealing with it and saying goodbye, snuck out of the room quietly and left on his journey without saying another word.

Sam was probably upset when he woke, but he knew Dean wasn’t one for long talks about feelings or long talks in general. He would understand. Dean knew that although they fought about it, Dean had to go anyways and he would always go if it meant keeping Sammy safe.

As he continued walking, Dean wished that Sam would realize that this was just the way things were. He had to take care of the family, protect them. John certainly wasn’t going to do it. When Dean was Sam’s age, though, he had felt the same. He didn’t understand why his father would drink until he passed out, or why he didn’t take the active fatherly role he was supposed to. Dean had tried so hard to get him to step up. He had begged and begged, cried to his father when Sam was sick after John had gone to town to buy medicine, but had spent the entire night in the tavern instead. Then he had gotten angry. He yelled himself horse and all it gave him was a black eye and an even drunker father. It was then he realized he would just have to suck it up and take responsibility himself. It was his job to take care of Sam, and nothing else mattered.

But Sam just couldn’t see that. He couldn’t see that John wasn’t going to change, no matter what. Not even if his life, or his son’s lives, depended on it.

But with this, Dean thought, this gem, it might not matter. John could drink himself into a stupor for all he cared, because they would have money. They would have food. Sam would be taken care of. Maybe Dean could even afford to get Sam out of that wretched, distant town, and they could travel to some fancy city. That’s where Sam is meant to be. He could be making a name for himself out there, somewhere.

The more Dean thought about it, the happier he became, and the thoughts of Sam and all the good this new wealth could bring chased away his darker thoughts about his father. 

Dean walked. And walked. He spent more time wishing he had a horse. He decided that the first thing he would buy would be the biggest, more badass horse he could find. It would be dark, and ominous. People would see it walk down the street with me astride and move out of the way, it would make them wonder at the impressive sight. Yes, he thought, definitely the first thing he would buy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean returns home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to anyone reading this! So, school is crazy. I know you probably don't want to read excuses, but as a third year engineering student, the work load is insane. Anyways, I'm trying to use my free time to continue this, so hang in there for some not so frequent updates. Have a longer-ish one this time! Thanks for reading!

A few days later Dean stood a top a hill and looked over the landscape. From his vantage point, he could clearly see his little farm, the fields brown and empty. He could also see a few other farms farther down the road, and in the distance he could see the smoke and house tops of their little town. 

Home, he sighed happily. He could see Sam behind their house splitting wood. No doubt John was inside either drinking or already passed out. Dean had been gone a total of ten days, most of that time spent travelling rather than hunting, but he definitely called this trip a success. He had shot down two large bucks, which he was dragging behind him on a makeshift sled of branches.

Dean walked down the road and when he finally reached the path that lead to their cabin of a house he heard Sam cry, “Dean!” and watched him drop his ax and run to greet his brother.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam said as he wrapped Dean into a hug. At fourteen Sam was a string bean: long limbed and gangly in every sense. He was still shorter than him, but Dean could tell that Sam would at least catch him eventually. If not, he was going to look really strange with such long legs.

“Is that any way to greet your brother?” He jibbed, dropping his bag and hugging Sam tightly. Normally Dean wasn’t one to display much emotion, especially affection, but he always made an exception for Sam. “I thought you’d be happy I was back early!”

“No no I am, I am!” Sam said hurriedly, “I’m just surprised is all. I wasn’t expecting to see you for another two or three weeks. What gives?”

“I’ll show you later,” Dean promised, “Where’s Dad? Isn’t chopping wood his responsibility? You look ridiculous holding that ax. And what’s going on with your hair? It looks like you have a mop on your head.”

Sam rolled his eyes at him and ignored the comment about his hair. “I am plenty old enough to chop wood, Dean.”

“Course you are kid. Finish up and I’ll tell you all about my trip.”

“Okay!” Sam said, and with that, bounded back to the woodpile and started chopping vigorously in an effort to hear Dean’s stories sooner.

“Hey, slow down!” Dean yelled, “I’m not going anywhere and I won’t start without you.”

Dean picked up his pack and headed toward their house. It wasn’t much. When John had first built it, he had done it because Mary wanted a family, so it at least had more than one bedroom. However, since Mary passed, John hadn’t made it a priority to build another, so Sam and Dean had shared. John also hadn’t made it a priority to clean since Dean was gone, either. He left the sled on the side of the house; he would clean the carcasses tonight.

This place is a pigsty, Dean grimaced as he walked in. Sure enough, there his father was, dozing in a chair with a bottle in his hand. Dean rolled his eyes, decided that he just didn’t want to deal with it today, and went to his room.

Dean knew that Sam was expecting a story, and storytelling was one of Dean’s favorite things to do. He loved the look in peoples eyes when they were under his or anyone else’s spell. He could see the emotion playing on their faces as he controlled the characters and events, and he enjoyed that power, however brief it was. Because of this, he decided to leave his precious gem in his bag until the appropriate time in the story where he could unveil it for dramatic effect.

By the time he had finished unpacking his clothes and put his camping gear away, he could hear Sam bumbling around in the kitchen, trying to make dinner so that Dean wouldn’t have to. Dean admired the thought, be decided that he would also like to actually eat dinner, so he left his room in order to help Sam with the cooking instead of kicking him out completely so he would bruise the poor kid’s ego too much.

John had moved to the bedroom while Dean was in his, apparently still oblivious to the fact that his eldest son had returned home two weeks early from his month long trip, but Dean didn’t care. He just wanted to spend the evening with Sammy, not fighting with his Dad.

As Sam put the dishes on the table, Dean could see the apology whenever he met Sam’s eyes. This was Sam’s way of saying that he was happy Dean was home, and that he was so sorry that they fought the night before his trip. Sam knew that Dean would never accept a spoken apology or want to talk about it, but this was his way of clearing the air.

They were silent as they ate, but Dean could see Sam’s impatience. He knew that if Dean told him he had a story to tell, it was going to be good, but Dean loved to make him squirm. It made that actually story better when you had to wait for it a little bit.

“I’m sorry there isn’t any desert,” Sam said as they were clearing plates, “I was going to have a pie ready when you came home, make it a few days before we were expecting you. I guess I should’ve planned to make it a couple weeks before now” He grinned up at Dean.

Dean ruffled his hair in return. “Come on kid. I know you want to hear all about it.”

Sam and Dean walked into the bedroom. They both got dressed for bed, however Sam was quicker than Dean, and he was already waiting on his bed, legs crossed underneath him, looking expectantly at Dean. While Dean enjoyed the anticipation stories could have, he wasn’t cruel, and so he launched into his tale.

He knew Sam loved every single little detail after he went on a trip, so Dean started at the very beginning. He told him everything from the day he left right up to the moment where he fell asleep in his tree. Sam’s eyelids were drooping, and he was starting to think that there wasn’t going to be anything exciting in this story, which was strange. Dean usually had a knack for making even his mundane days of travelling seem adventurous.

This was good, Dean thought. He had lulled him into thinking that this was just another trip, a boring one even. And now for the good part, he thought.

“And then there was a giant explosion that threw me from my tree and I was knocked unconscious,” Dean said.

“Hmm,” Sam made a noise to imply that he was still listening, which obviously he wasn’t. Dean waited for his words to sink in, and sure enough, a couple bleary, sleep-tired blinks later, he was rewarded with an astounded, “wait, what?!” from the boy.

“Yeah,” Dean replied after a fit of laughter at his brother’s reaction. “I was out for at least on hour, and when I woke up, there was this giant crater where the meadow used to be.”

“What do you think caused it?” Sam asked in wonder.

“Hell if I know, but honestly who cares. You’ll never guess what I found in the middle of it all.”

“Really?” Sam’s eyes were huge now, “Was it a fallen star? Some giant bird?”

“No!” Dean said, “I said you’d never guess, so don’t even try Sammy.”

“I can try if I want to, and don’t call me Sammy.”

“Sure sure Sammy. Anyways!” Dean continued on, “So my head is ringing, but I see something in the middle of the crater. It was a reflection off of something, the light kind of winking at me. I walk over and I see something sparkling in the dirt so I lean down and try to pick it up but the thing is, I could only just see the tip of it. So I start digging around it, and this thing is huge!”

“Wait wait,” Sam interrupts waving a hand to stop him, “Where is it? I want to see it, cause I’m starting to think you made this whole thing up just to mess with me. There wasn’t really an explosion, was there?”

“Sam, I promise there was an explosion,” Dean says seriously, “but do you want to tell me how to tell my own story?” Sam starts to interrupt him with a “Yes” but Dean continues to speak without stopping, “No, of course you don’t. So I will show you when the time is right.”

“What ever, keep telling the story jerk.”

“Bitch. Okay, where was I? Right! I was digging. So I’m digging all around this thing, thinking to myself it can’t be any bigger, but still I kept digging and I was still revealing more and more of it. Finally,” Dean started to reach into his bag to reveal his stone. “I drug the entire thing out of the ground.”

With that statement, Dean pulled his gem out of his bag and held it for Sam to see. Sam’s eyes got even bigger as his stared in wonder at the huge gem.

“Oh my god Dean,” he said reverently, “What the hell is that?”

“Beats me,” replied Dean. “But it’s going to feed us for years.”

Sam reached out his hands, “Can I touch it?”

Dean suddenly felt a surge of possession. A no was about to leave his lips, but then he regained his rational mind. Sam won’t hurt it. He just wants a closer look is all, Dean told himself. Wait a minute. Hurt it? It was a rock, one that wasn’t harmed in a huge blast. Dean still couldn’t quite shake the possessive, protective thoughts from his head, but he handed his stone over to Sam anyways. However, even still, he couldn’t help a “Be gentle” slip from his mouth.

Be gentle? Get a hold of yourself Dean, he told himself.

Sam took Dean’s stone into both of his hands as if it was a precious babe. 

“It’s beautiful,” Sam breathed as he stared at the gem. In the low light of the few candles they still had burning in their room, it was hard to see it truly like Dean had in full daylight, but it was still exquisite.

Dean could feel the jealousy starting to rise in him again at the sight of someone staring at his stone, but he quickly stamped it out again.

“Okay, enough,” Dean said holding his hands out expectantly for Sam to give it back. When he did, Dean held it delicately to his chest and Sam eyed him skeptically.

“You sure it’s just a stone?” Sam asked, suspicion in his eye.

“Who cares,” Dean said, “We’re going to sell it when the merchants next come to town, and then we will live like kings!”

Sam gave him and the gem he was holding another look which Dean didn’t even bother trying to decipher, before he told him to finish telling his story.

“Well, really that’s all the exciting part,” Dean said, putting the gem back in his bag and setting his bag on the shelf above his bed where he could see it. “After I found this I decided to start heading back home. I caught a couple large rabbits the traps I had set on the way in, and shot down a couple elk too so we can still eat, and now, here I am, sitting here with you.”

“I’m glad your back Dean,” Sam said with a yawn, lying down and putting his head on his pillow. Dean could tell he wasn’t going to be conscious much longer. He had taken a long time drawing out the beginning of his story, and it was much later than either of them were used to going to going to sleep. He lay down in his own bed as well.

“I’m glad I’m back too, Sammy.” And with that, they were both off to a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate all comments and kudos, or feel free to visit me [here.](bravomyhere.tumblr.com)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and will continue to :)


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